


Clouds and Scars

by sciencebluefeelings



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bedsharing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencebluefeelings/pseuds/sciencebluefeelings
Summary: Jim had never gone to such lengths for anyone before. He’s definitely intimidated everyone that thought they knew him. Quite frankly, he’s scared himself.But really, what choice did he have? The ambassador had been the only one to show Jim such raw, uninhibited trust. Jim would give up anyone,anything, before someone took such a precious thing away from him.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock Prime
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Clouds and Scars

**Author's Note:**

> (prompt words: cloud/wrist)

Jim wakes up before the alarm he had set to remind him to prepare breakfast. He winces at the blinding sunlight pouring through the half-open window curtains. It’s way too cheerful and bright outside for how he’s feeling - how he’s been feeling the last couple days.

Jim uses the bathroom and silently exits the guest bedroom to sneak downstairs and check the couch bed in the living room. The blanket is in a loose bundle on the ground, and the ambassador is curled up in a tight ball, face averted and his head not quite aligned on the pillow. He looks cold.

Jim retrieves the blanket off the floor and gently drapes it over Ambassador Spock again, tucking it around his shoulders and chin. He dares to lift the ambassador’s head and gingerly adjust the pillow under it, not wanting him to wake with a sore neck.

The ambassador exhales and tilts his head, his limbs relaxing slightly. He does not wake.

Jim goes into the kitchen and checks the refrigerator from pure habit, already knowing this farm house has been uninhabited for several years and there would be nothing inside. Jim goes to the replicator and synthesizes pots, cutting boards, vegetables and stock. Vegetable soup in the morning with crusty bread sounds like a good idea.

Jim chooses a basket and ventures outside to the overgrown thicket of a garden. He wasn’t expecting to find anything substantial, but there are a few dense patches of fragrant herbs. They release bright aromas as Jim picks them and adds them to the basket.

The soup is simmering and the synthesized bread dough is nearly done baking when Jim hears Ambassador Spock finally stir and get up. Heart in his throat, Jim watches the ambassador sit quietly for a moment, blinking sleep out of his eyes. The ambassador checks his comm before stretching and standing. The white bandages around his wrist stand out in stark contrast with the warm tones of the wall paint. The ambassador moves to the auxiliary full bathroom Jim had shown him yesterday, and there are only faint sounds through the closed door. It sounds like he is showering again.

Ambassador Spock comes back into view with blow-dried hair and a soft smile. “Good morning, Jim.”

Jim helplessly smiles back. “Good morning, Spock. Did you sleep alright?”

The ambassador is playing with the bandage on his wrist. “Fine, thank you.” He stares at the table Jim has already set. “This was not necessary.”

Jim gestures to the closest seat. “There’s salt if you need more.”

Spock eases into his chair and looks at the ceramic red bowl of vegetable soup, then at the flavored margarine for the fresh bread. “Thank you, Jim.”

Jim grins as Spock takes a large bite out of a slice of bread. “Of course, Spock.”

They had barely finished eating and putting the dishes into the cycler when the ambassador tugs at Jim’s sleeve. “Let’s go outside, Jim.”

“Okay.”

That’s how they end up taking a walk around the land of the neglected farm. Jim has to admit, even in its overgrown, unused state, there is beauty in the variety of foliage. Surely it would be more useful to someone that could actively cultivate the land. Jim still doesn’t understand why Winona doesn’t sell it already, but he’s never bothered to ask.

Jim and the ambassador pause near a shallow stream to sit on a rock together and toss fruit and seeds to the birds. They gradually accumulate, fussing over the offerings of food. When they run out of food to throw, the birds lose interest quickly. Some fly away, others bathe in the ponds of still water near the stream.

It’s still cold in the shade, so Jim and the ambassador keep walking until they reach the middle of a field of wildflowers. They spread out an outdoor blanket and sit together barefoot.

Spock sits with his face upturned towards the sky, a hint of a smile on his gaunt face. The bandages around his wrists gleam in the sunlight. Hints of bruises that the dermal regenerator couldn’t fully heal peek out from under the carefully wrapped gauze.

It’s been two days since they found Spock in the deep recesses of a mine, shackled to the head supervisor’s bed frame.

Three days before that, Jim had ordered the _Enterprise_ to change her course in violation of direct orders from the higher ups. Sulu had smiled grimly and gone to warp without hesitation.

Two months before that, Jim had first heard about Ambassador Spock’s disappearance after a routine excursion to a diplomatic conference. It had been infuriating, how easily Jim had found the ambassador when he just _tried._

Jim still cringes thinking about how the ambassador had soothed Jim as he cried into his bare shoulder. Back on the _Enterprise_ , First Officer Spock had raised his eyebrow judgmentally as Bones took the ambassador away to examine him in privacy. Jim definitely deserved that eyebrow. It should’ve been him doing the comforting, not the other way around.

The ambassador’s skin had been grimy with a slightly sticky back, and the bed had reeked with the pungent odor of sex and sour sweat. The ambassador said he had only been unchained from the bed to allow him to relieve himself. He had been closely supervised by upwards of three guards each time, as they had not been willing to underestimate his Vulcan strength. The ambassador had required stitches and several antibiotics, and every time Jim thought about it he wanted to break down and destroy in blind rage all at once again.

Ambassador Spock had seemed uncomfortable by the thought of going back to New Vulcan, so Jim brought them both to Earth. Winona still doesn’t understand Jim’s fascination with the ambassador, but she had been willing to accommodate them temporarily. Her gaze in the video call had been piercing every time Spock thanked her or looked at Jim - which was often.

At least Spock wasn’t inquiring about Jim’s constantly blinking comm, or the voicemail Jim had accidentally played on speaker mentioning an inevitable meeting with the admiral - and a possible court martial.

Jim sighs.

Spock’s eyes slide open, warm and inquisitive. “You have been quiet, Jim. What’s on your mind?”

Jim twists his fingers around the weeds at the edge of the blanket, and he knows his emotions are spilling out through his posture and face and eyes and he can’t do anything to hide it. “Nothing much,” he whispers.

Jim nearly startles when Spock eases down to rest his head in Jim’s lap. The sunlight briefly turns his dark eyes a bright brown hue. Spock closes his eyes and purrs into Jim’s stomach. Jim’s hand immediately comes to stroke Spock’s soft hair. He brushes the locks around Spock's pointed ear, and he runs the tip of his finger along the wrinkles around the corner of Spock's eye.

Time passes pleasantly like that. Jim senses when Spock is about to doze off, only to flinch out of unconsciousness the moment he hears any sound. Jim rests his fingers on Spock’s tense shoulder. “I’m watching, Spock. Nothing’s happening to you. No one knows we’re here, but if something were to happen - they’re not taking you away from me again.”

Spock nods once, but he doesn’t ever completely fall asleep. Jim leans back and watches the flowers nod their bright heads as butterflies dance about. Despite the bright, grassy smell, Jim can’t help remembering the dank smell of the underground cavern and the claustrophobic room they had saved the ambassador from.

Jim shudders and tries to focus on the flowers and the weight of Spock’s head in his lap again.

They don’t go back to the farm house until late afternoon, and Jim concedes defeat. He’s been avoiding his comm long enough.

His mess of an inbox contains a message from the admiral. There won’t be a meeting or hearing. There won’t be any sort of formal ceremony. Jim’s been dismissed from his position. It’s over.

Jim deletes the message and scrolls through his missed calls. Predictably, there are several missed calls from both Commander Spock and Bones.

Jim slips into the designated office room of the house and closes the door. He dials his former first officer and holds the comm to his ear. “Hey, Captain.”

“ _That is not funny,_ ” is the immediate response. Jim can’t help going soft. They had their differences, but Jim couldn’t deny there was some comfort in the unfailing predictability of Commander Spock’s personality conflicting with his.

A very different voice infiltrates the call. “Hey, Jim.”

Jim sighs. “Hi, Bones. You okay?”

“S’what we should be asking _you_ , dammit, Jim. You know they’ve already instated Spock as captain? The higher-ups were here themselves to rearrange the crew. Everyone’s bewildered.”

Jim does regret that slightly, he supposes, that he couldn’t be there himself to provide some peaceful closure. “It ended as well as I could’ve asked for, honestly. Hopefully when the news breaks out to the reporters, the hype and everything will die down quickly.”

The three of them talk together long enough that Jim is surprised to see how far the sun has set outside the window. He should think about preparing dinner now. Jim turns his attention back to his friends, who have noticeably calmed down after getting to talk to Jim and hear how much lighter he sounds. “Don’t worry about me, guys. Not too much.” Jim doesn’t worry too much about his friends. He knows Spock will protect Bones with tooth and claw, and even more so for Bones to Spock.

Jim opens the office door and comes face to face with a worried Ambassador Spock. _Crap._ Suddenly Jim thinks about the visions he had seen through his meld with the old Vulcan, the distant gaze the ambassador always had when he caught sight of Jim laughing with Bones and the younger Spock.

Jim’s voice is nearly tremulous. “If you’re going to say something about my destiny or some bullshit like that, don’t.”

Spock is silent, watching Jim.

Jim looks down at the bandages around Spock’s wrists. “If it’s my destiny to be under the will and whim of authorities that bring harm to people I love through their own deliberate negligence, fuck that. I don’t want any part of it.”

Spock’s worn hands come to cradle Jim’s chin. For a moment, Jim thinks Spock is going to kiss him, but he merely caresses his cheek with a thumb. “My dear, I do not regret you coming to free me.”

It’s not the answer Jim would’ve preferred, but he’ll settle for it.

Spock speaks again. “I shall make dinner. I insist,” he says firmly as Jim opens his mouth to protest. “If you wish to make yourself useful, please unload the clean dishes from the cycler.”

“Fine,” Jim grouches, standing to follow Spock into the kitchen. He spares an affectionate stroke up Spock’s back before going to the cycler. “What are you going to make?”

Spock takes a wok directly from the cycler. “I will prepare rice and potato-eggplant stir fry.”

“If the oil splatters, you might get hurt,” Jim frets. “Wait, let me get an apron for you.” He synthesizes a neat-looking dark blue one, and Spock allows Jim to hang it over his head and tie it around his waist. Jim’s hands linger around Spock’s hips. It had been so strange to see the ambassador’s body exposed after only seeing him in thick robes and layers of garments. His bare body had somehow looked less frail than it did when covered with clothing.

“Thank you, Jim,” the ambassador says with clear amusement in his tone.

Jim removes his hands. “You look really good in an apron.”

“I look good in anything,” Spock says easily as he turns on the stove.

Jim gives a startled laugh. “Well, I can’t disagree with that.” He finally goes to the cycler to begin clearing it.

“Jim, do you have plans for what you will do if you are not working at Starfleet?”

Jim glances at Spock, but the atmosphere is lacking any of the tense mood from earlier. Jim gathers the spoons and places them in a drawer. “Actually, I think I might study online and research alternative higher education programs. They’re usually not as extensive as the education that Starfleet can provide, but I’ve heard of some good experiences.”

“For History and Cultural Observation?”

“That’s right,” Jim says, surprised. “How did you know?”

“Your counterpart of my reality showed interest in the subject. Mainly, I have seen the books you have left around. You would make an interesting professor,” Spock muses. “I cannot imagine any young student would not want to listen to your experiences.”

Jim smiles broadly. “Thank you, Spock.”

The food Spock cooks is delicious, and Jim gets a second helping of both the rice and stir-fry. Spock looks immensely pleased because of it. After dinner, Jim offers to assist Spock in redressing the bandages after they shower, and Spock agrees.

With hair barely toweled off, Jim sits across from Spock on the edge of the couch bed and opens the first-aid kit. Spock patiently keeps his hands outstretched as Jim dresses the healing wounds on his wrists and bandages them. They look so much better than when they had first been freed from the cuffs.

Spock’s hands are beautiful. Jim wants to kiss each finger and leave bite marks on his palms. Instead, he settles for a final reassuring stroke up Spock’s forearm before withdrawing. “Goodnight, Ambassador.”

Spock’s reply is mellow and soft. “Thank you, Jim. Goodnight to you as well.”

Jim wakes up to an unfamiliar, deep noise. He realizes it’s the door. Someone is knocking. “Spock? The door’s open,” Jim says.

When there is no answer, Jim frowns and gets out of bed to open the door himself. Spock is hunched at the threshold, arms held around himself. “Jim?” Jim doesn’t recognize the expression in his eyes. “Jim, may I hug you?”

Jim’s breath catches. “Of course, sweetheart.” He holds out his arms, and Spock buries his face into Jim’s neck. Jim’s frown deepens when he feels how rapid Spock’s heart is beating, how his breath flutters at an uneven pace at his neck. “Spock, what’s going on?”

Spock’s beginning to breath heavily, and the hairs raise on Jim’s back. He curses internally and tries to guide Spock to the bed to sit down.

“ _No_ ,” Spock snarls, yanking away. “Not the bed.”

“Fuck, right. No bed. I promise. Let’s - sit down here, is that okay?” Spock doesn’t respond, leaning heavily on Jim as he clumsily tries to ease them both to the floor. He keeps his voice calm and soothing. “You’re safe, Spock. I’m right here.”

Spock’s hand loosely twists in the fabric of Jim’s shirt, and he takes another trembling, controlled breath. “Oh, Jim. I apologize for my loss of control.”

“Don’t. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I keep hearing all of their voices,” Spock whispers.

Jim tightens his grip on Spock. “Where?”

“Everywhere.” Thankfully, Spock’s breathing is beginning to even out once more, but he doesn’t let go of Jim.

“What can I do for you, Spock?”

“Don’t leave me.”

Jim shakes his head and presses his face to Spock’s soft hair. “You ask for so little as if it could be a burden for me.”

Jim feels Spock’s heartbeat gradually calm down. Jim adjusts his grip on Spock. “Doesn’t the floor hurt your knees? Let’s at least go back to the couch bed.” Jim tries to help them both up, but Spock’s hand is still entwined in his clothing. “My shirt, Spock.”

Spock doesn’t loosen his grip. “May I wear it?”

“Just let me-” Jim wiggles out of the shirt, ignoring the cool night air pricking his skin. He watches Spock bury his cheek into the warm fabric before removing his own tunic to put the shirt on.

Jim can’t wear Spock’s tunic, the shoulders are too narrow for him. He hesitates, wondering if he should go find another shirt, but then Spock grabs his hands and leads him out the bedroom to the living room and onto the couch bed. Jim chuckles and allows Spock to arrange him on the bed and wrap the blankets around them. Spock twists so that he is lying with his back pressed to Jim’s chest. There’s still an edge of unease in his otherwise relaxed posture.

“Sleep, Spock.” Jim dares to kiss Spock’s neck, and a torrent of thoughts bleed through the contact. Spock must’ve been masking his thoughts well before, because the meld of their minds is now clear and potent.

Spock worries Jim might be concerned that he is coercing Spock into intimacy through the situation, that Jim might somehow be taking advantage. Spock worries that because of this, Jim might withdraw from Spock’s advances. But Spock - he _aches_.

Spock grabs Jim’s wrist. “I understand that you expect nothing in return for what you have done for me, Jim. But. . .”

The rest of the sentence echoes as an exchange of thought, of pure emotion. Jim hugs Spock closer. “You never have to fear when you’re with me. I trust you. I trust you to tell me your boundaries, and I hope you can trust me, too.”

Spock’s thumb brushes against Jim’s palm. His voice is hushed, like it was on Delta Vega while he stared at Jim. “Fate is a strange thing, is it not? Whenever I am in need, you find me.”

“The way I see it, you found me when I needed you most. I wouldn’t have been able to lead the _Enterprise_ without your trust.”

Spock is quiet after that. Jim senses him falling asleep until his dreams flow through their connection. Spock is back in the field of wildflowers, warmed by sunlight. He now sees the ever shifting face of destiny, like wisps of clouds in the blue sky. So he wishes - not for Jim’s role in this universe, but instead for Jim’s happiness. It makes Jim’s heart ache. He in turn wishes for Spock’s safety and health so that Spock can live and love as he does every day in that unfathomable, unconditional manner.

Jim won’t settle for words, though. If action is needed, Jim will be ready to protect him again. He’ll be ready every single time.


End file.
